


Steady Warmth

by Kaenith



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Tea, baking to avoid your problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:15:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaenith/pseuds/Kaenith
Summary: Red helps out in the castle kitchens early one morning.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 121





	Steady Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 6 of the [Four Swords Art-tober](https://imaginefourswords.tumblr.com/post/630630218149822464/hi-everybody-just-popping-in-to-share-this). Prompt: Brew

The scent of bread and the quiet murmur of work getting done fill the Hyrule Castle kitchens in the dim pre-dawn light.

Red stands at the counter, wrist-deep in bread dough. He lets the warm ambiance flow around him as he focuses on his task — push, fold, push, fold. He breathes steadily, feeling the softness of the dough, the slight strain across his shoulders.

When it's ready, he scoops the dough into a bowl and covers it with a cloth. He turns to put it aside and nearly squeaks in surprise when he almost runs into Arcy, the head chef.

"Sorry!" Red says, clutching the bowl to his chest, relieved not to have dropped it. He could swear he feels his heart hammering against it.

"My fault," Arcy says, taking the bowl from him and setting it on a shelf to proof. "I'm sorry I startled you, young Sir Knight."

Red gives a weak giggle, ducking his head. "You know you don't have to call me that. I- I'm just Red, really."

"Of course." Arcy smiles. "Well, Red. Would you like to tell me what brings you to the kitchen this morning?" She pulls a mortar and pestle toward her as she speaks, and begins grinding up dried herbs.

Red feels his ears droop, and he hopes the dim light hides it. "I just wanted to help!" he says, trying for his usual chirpy cheerfulness.

But Arcy shakes her head. "You're a helpful boy, but not usually this early in the mornings. You usually visit us in the evening, when you're done with training for the day and hoping you can sneak a bit of early supper if you help out." She smiles, softening the edges of the words.

"Now, Sir Blue," she continues, _"he_ stops by this early sometimes, for a bit of a bite after his morning run. And Sir Vio, sometimes he visits the pantry so late we only know he's been there because he leaves a note to explain the missing dried fruit. But you? No, Red. _You_ , I think, would not be here so early if something weren't troubling you."

Red bites his lip, frowning down at the flour-dusted countertop. Trust Arcy to see right through him. She _had_ known him — or Link, at least — since he was a baby.

"It's the Fire Rod," he says at last, hand going to his hip, where the weapon hangs from his belt. He doesn’t really like wearing it all the time, but neither does he like leaving it unattended anywhere. "I… I know I've done a lot of good with it! I saved the others' _lives_ , a few times over! But…" He plucks up one of the dried leaves from Arcy's jar of herbs, and begins methodically shredding it to pieces. "But it's hard to control. When I first picked it up… I could have really hurt someone. I _did_ make that wildfire worse. And even when I figured it out a bit more, when I was using it to do good… it's still destructive. I _burned_ Blue, getting him out of that ice."

"Hmm," Arcy says, a wordless sound to indicate she’s still listening.

"A few days ago, Blue said he wanted to try the Fire Rod. I let him, but he could barely get it to work. Just… sparks and smoke. Zelda said I must have an aptitude for fire magic."

He tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, willing his eyes to not spill over, and finally says out loud the words that have been echoing in his head ever since. "What does that say about me? That I have an aptitude for something so destructive?"

Arcy pauses in her work to look at him. Red doesn't meet her gaze. He remembers the look of fear in her eyes, when she'd seen the four of them for the first time and thought they were more Shadow Links. He doesn't want to see that again.

Arcy steps away, and for a sinking moment Red thinks she's leaving. Just… walking away, after he said that. But then she comes back, holding a kettle full of water, which she hands to him.

"You know, I could go for some tea this morning, and I think you could use some too," she says. "Mind heating the water for me?"

"A-alright?" Red says, voice shaking uncertainly as he accepts the kettle.

He turns to head to the fireplace, but Arcy's hand on his arm stops him. She turns him back around and points him toward one of the unlit extra ovens, usually only used when they've got a big feast to prepare for.

Red frowns. "I could just use the fireplace," he says. He has an uncomfortable suspicion he knows where this is going. "I don't need to start a whole new fire just for—"

"I want you to use your Fire Rod to boil the water," Arcy says. "You can do it in the oven in case there are any accidents."

"But I'll burn it!" Red protests. "I'll boil the water too much, and it'll scorch the leaves, and… it's gonna be really bad tea, Arcy."

She shrugs. "Probably. But I'm not feeling anything fancy this morning. We can use the cheap stuff, so it’ll be no great loss."

Red slumps. "Why not just use the fireplace?"

Arcy puts a hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy and reassuring. "Because the tea you make tomorrow will be better. And someday we'll use the fancy tea, and you won't be afraid of burning it. Someday you'll have enough control you won't even need to use the oven."

Red inhales slowly, breathing in the scent of baking bread, and herbs, and tea leaves. "You think so?"

Arcy smiles, and it's the same smile Red remembers from a childhood that wasn't really _his_ , but wasn't really _not_. It's a smile that says ' _there there, here’s a glass of water, that scraped knee will stop hurting in a moment.'_

"I _know_ so," she says.

Red nods. He presses his lips firmly together, straightens his back. He faces the unlit oven with his shoulders squared like he's going into battle.

-

That first pot of tea is bad.

The second one is better.


End file.
